


Happy Steve Bingo 2019

by belovedmuerto



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Happy Steve Bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-15 22:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto
Summary: Here are my Happy Steve Bingo fills! Each chapter is stand alone and the chapter titles are the prompts.





	1. Cooking Shows

Steve always knows that Bucky’s been watching GBBO again when his baking starts getting fancier and more obscure.

And there’s always more fruits and jams in things, too.

And more bread.

Not that Steve is in any way complaining. There have been far more hits than misses. Bucky is an excellent baker. And cook.

So when he walks into the kitchen after his run to the smell of bread and something very sweet, he knows he’s in for a treat.

“English muffins,” Bucky tells him when he hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder and makes an inquiring noise.

There are several blobs of dough in large round cookie cutters—Steve assumes they’re for making english muffins because they’d be awfully huge cookies.

“Yum,” Steve says. 

Anything Bucky makes is sure to be yummy, even if it doesn’t turn out pretty.

Bucky keeps at his watch by the stove while Steve gets himself some coffee. He checks and tops off Bucky’s mug, too. Bucky hums his thanks, eyes on the muffins, and Steve presses a kiss to his cheek before he retreats to the table to sit and watch and wait. 

It’s quiet in the kitchen except for the sound of the muffins cooking, and an occasional sniff from one or the other of them.

It’s so peaceful, Steve wants to freeze this little moment and save it forever.

But first, breakfast.


	2. comic conventions

“No, it’ll be fun. No one’ll clock you, Steve.”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Buck.”

“Sweetheart.”

Steve knows he’s a goner, when Bucky pulls out that tiny hint of wheedle that’s crept into his voice. He can’t resist that. He can’t say no. How can he?

It’s impossible.

“There’s bound to be tons of new artists, and artists you’ve never heard of,” Bucky adds, even though his expression tells Steve that he’s fully aware that Steve has already given in.

Steve gives it one last valiant attempt. “Buck, someone will recognize me.”

“Steve it’s one of the biggest comic cons in the country. There will be any number of people dressed up as you. You’ll be fine.”

“Buck,” he sighs.

“It’ll be fun.”

“You hate crowds.”

Bucky shrugs. “It’ll be good practice for me.”

Steve sighs.

“Grow out your beard until then. It’ll help.”

Steve sighs again. 

So a couple weeks later, at the beginning of October, Steve lets Bucky dress him up as… himself. He wears a ball cap and aviators, and a leather jacket not unlike his own that Bucky got from somewhere, and jeans and his own shoes. His beard has come in well, a little ginger like always.

Bucky hands him the shield to wear on his back.

Steve sighs.

Bucky is also in something that is supposed to be a bad disguise. He’s even wearing gloves to hide his hand, which he only does rarely anymore. Somehow he looks like the winter soldier _and_ like anyone else with a slightly murdery vibe.

It’s not fair.

Steve loves him so much, and he still can’t believe he’s going to NYCC as Captain America in disguise.

It’s way more fun than he thought it would be.

Bucky blends into the crowd and everyone seems to look right past him, Steve doesn’t know how he does it. A bunch of people ask Steve for photos though, and he’s terrified the first time until he realizes they think he’s doing good cosplay. After that, he’s able to relax and enjoy himself.

He talks art with several artists, and Bucky drags him to a panel or two (he’s not complaining), and they spend the day having a ball. Steve spends way more money than he’d anticipated, buying everything that makes Bucky’s eyes light up with joy despite his protests.

A couple weeks later a large flatish box is delivered to their house, with Steve’s name on it.

“Buck, did you order something?” Steve calls out after he’s signed for it and the courier has left. He shuts the door and carries the box into the living room.

Bucky comes out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. There’s flour on his apron and in his hair; Steve is pretty sure he’s working on bread.

“No,” he replies. “What is it?”

Steve opens the box and pulls out… a replica of the shield. It’s got a nice heft to it, and it’s extremely well done, almost indistinguishable from the real thing except for all the ways it feels different to Steve.

He looks at Bucky and shrugs, putting the shield down and looking in the box again. There’s a note, and he pulls that out.

“Maybe don’t wear the real one next time,” Steve reads aloud. “With a ‘T’ after it ooohhhh, it’s from Tony.”

Bucky laughs.


	3. you smell really nice

Normally Steve isn’t as interested in long, hot baths as Bucky is. He gets impatient with it, too restless to sit still. Or at least, he feels like he will.

Nothing else has worked though, to settle him enough that maybe he can catch a few hours of sleep. He’s been driving both of them insane with it, and he hates that. Bucky deserves better than his tossing and turning keeping them both up all night.

So when Bucky suggests Steve take a bath before bed the next evening, maybe give it an actual chance, and offers up whatever of his product that Steve may want to use—“even the bath bombs if you want, sweetheart”— Steve accepts.

It’s worth a try.

—

He doesn’t pick one of the bath bombs, though. Instead, he goes for the classic bubble bath that smells herbal and floral. Like lavender, maybe?

Bucky had told him he would leave some stuff in the bathroom for him, which turns out to be his book, the bluetooth speaker, and a bottle of water. All are arranged on the tub tray that Bucky uses sometimes when he takes baths and really wants a good soak and something to do while he’s relaxing.

It was thoughtful of him, and Steve feels warm and tingly inside.

He’d also lit a couple of candles around the room, all soothing and herbal, a little bit spicy.

Steve starts the water running and adds the bubble bath.

—

He dozes off in the tub, and when he wakes up he’s amazed that he’d managed that, and also that he hadn’t accidentally drowned himself doing it. He’s always cautioning Bucky against falling asleep in the bath.

The water is cooling quickly now, so he closes his book and pushes the tray down the tub so he can stand up and get out.

He does feel better, relaxed and sort of hollowed out. But in a good way. Empty and at peace. He watches the water swirl down the drain and imagines that it’s taking all of his worries with it. All of the things that have been making it hard to sleep.

He wraps up in his bathrobe--not nearly as plush as Bucky’s but it does the job, and heads out to their bedroom.

Bucky’s already in bed, sitting on his side with a book in hand. 

He puts on underwear, and hangs up his robe, and slides into bed next to Bucky.

“Feeling better?”

“I dozed off for a few minutes.”

Bucky snorts. “See, baths are relaxing. I told you so.”

“You did, Buck.”

“You know it’s no fun if you just agree with me.”

“I know,” Steve agrees.

Bucky snorts again.

Steve snuggles down into the bed, pulling the covers up to his neck and chasing the hazy, peaceful feeling the bath had left him with.

A few minutes later, Bucky puts his book down and turns off the light, snuggling in close behind Steve.

“Mmm, you smell really nice,” he mumbles into Steve’s neck.

“I smell like you, you mean,” Steve mumbles back.

“Yup.” Bucky chuckles, the sound vibrating through Steve, soothing and familiar.

He’s asleep in minutes.


	4. hidden magical powers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry folks, I kinda forgot to post for a few days!

It isn’t all that noticeable, most of the time, because Steve lives in a city and the only animals he sees with any regularity are rats, pigeons, and people’s pets. So it’s not too bad. He gets strange looks sometimes, when someone catches him talking to pigeons but hey, it’s New York. Being ignored for your weird shit by your fellow man is every New Yorker’s god-given right. 

Bucky notices, though. Because Bucky is good at noticing things, and he pays attention to Steve.

“Why do bodega cats love you so much?” he asks eventually, when he’s finally had enough of the way the creatures always melt out of the walls to chirp and meow at Steve, no matter if they’ve ever been in that store before or not.

Steve sighs, because he’s been waiting for this. He doesn’t really hide what he can do now, but he also tries not to advertise.

But, well. Bucky. Bucky notices. Bucky lives with him, this was bound to come up.

So he sighs and says, “Because I can understand what they’re saying.”

He shrugs and ducks his head, waiting. Waiting for what, he’s not sure, but whatever it is, he’s been dreading it.

But all Bucky says is, “huh.”

Steve looks at him, and Bucky looks thoughtful, but not freaked out or judgmental. Slowly, he starts to relax. Maybe his odd little ability won’t destroy them.

Why was he afraid it would?

Later, when Bucky comes to bed, he says, “Could you always do this?”

Steve rolls over to face him. “No, not before the serum. I don’t know when it happened, really.”

“Not in the war?”

“I dunno, Buck. There weren’t a lot of animals around.”

Bucky nods, still thoughtful. “Huh,” he says again.

—

Steve thinks that may be the end of it. If he’s honest, it’s not like he goes out of his way to talk to animals. It’s just something he can do, like lifting motorcycles over his head or throwing the shield.

But Bucky is still paying attention. 

The cats and dogs they encounter in their everyday lives don’t avoid Bucky the way a lot of people do—“Well, you sort of have resting murder face a lot still, Buck.” “I can’t help that, it’s just my face!” “I know that, Buck.”—and Bucky gravitates towards them (and babies, he loves babies). 

He starts asking Steve what they were saying after every encounter, whether it be with one of Steve’s bodega cat friends, or someone’s dog.

“Most dogs are just super proud of their people and excited about all the smells in the world,” Steve tells him.

“And cats?”

“They complain a lot. They think we’re all very bad at being cats.”

Bucky laughs at that one. He learns quickly not to ask Steve what the pigeons are saying—it just makes Steve mad. 

On his bad days, he gets suspicious of the animals that always gravitate to Steve. Well, he does if he even leaves the house.

Things go on. Bucky is gradually improving, bit by hard won bit, and Steve is so endlessly proud of him that he’s even started to think about his own mental health and wondering how he should work on that.

(He knows what both Sam and Bucky would say, in creepy unison: “get a therapist, Steve,” but he isn’t quite there yet.)

\--

The cat at the bodega they frequent most often takes a real shine to Bucky, and it makes Steve way more jealous than he should be.

It’s ridiculous, and he tells himself this every time he goes into the store and the cat will. Not. shut up. 

And yet.

He (and Steve is pretty sure the cat is a boy cat, but he’s never asked because that’s impolite to say the very least) always rubs against Steve’s legs when he comes into the store, but he also always starts in on rhapsodizing about Bucky at the same time: asking after him, telling Steve how good he smells, how pretty his face is, how nice his whiskers must feel (Steve does agree with that part). 

He never shuts up.

Steve does not share this with Bucky. He’s saving it for a special occasion.


	5. slow dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an appropriate final fic for my Happy Steve Bingo, eh?

Bucky finds him on the porch swing, bundled up and wrapped in a one of the spare comforters to boot, Hooch curled up next to him with just his head peeking out.

The dog lets out a low woof as Bucky approaches, and Steve turns his gaze on him.

Bucky pulls his coat tighter around himself and stops in front of Steve.

“What’re you doing out here, Stevie, it’s freezing.”

Steve shrugs and gestures out at the yard, where the light over the alpaca pasture illuminates the falling snow. “Just watching the snow.”

Bucky glances out over the yard and then back to his husband. “C’mon inside, you can watch the snow from there. Where it’s warmer.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’ll just be a few more minutes, Buck.”

“Steve.”

Steve looks at him and smiles. “I’m fine Buck, I just like the way it sounds. I won’t stay long.”

Bucky gives him a suspicious look, but he leaves him to it, heading back inside. He sheds his coat and goes to the fireplace to add more wood to it. The light of the fire is all that illuminates the living room, along with the twinkly lights on the Christmas tree in the corner. 

It’ll be time for that to come down soon.

Hopefully Steve really won’t stay outside for too long, because Bucky has plans. Well, they’re in the middle of plans, because it’s their anniversary, and it’s New Year’s Eve, and they’ve already had a wonderful dinner. Bucky doesn’t really care about staying up until midnight, but he does want a kiss from Steve to usher in the new year, and their next year of marriage (they’ve been married for decades really).

True to his word, Steve does come inside after a few minutes, the dog on his heels. Hooch wanders off to find his siblings, and Bucky helps Steve out of his coat, tosses the comforter over the sofa and pulls Steve over to the fire. Steve hunkers down, holding out his hands to the warmth. He’s got a soft, content smile on his face.

Bucky thinks he’s been happy here. It’s good, because he’s been happier than he can remember having Steve here with him.

“Dance with me?” 

Steve twists to look up at him, and Bucky holds out his hand. Steve takes it, and Bucky straightens up, pulling Steve up and into his arms, twirling him around.

Steve laughs, delighted, and Bucky settles them into an easy waltz. Steve, who still claims he’s not a good dancer, follows Bucky’s lead easily. In this one thing, Steve has always been willing to defer to Bucky. 

He moves them around the living room a few times, humming enough to keep them in time, in step. Eventually they slow down, in front of the fire, until they’re doing little more than swaying in place, holding each other.

“Happy anniversary,” Bucky murmurs against Steve’s temple.

“Happy anniversary, Buck,” Steve murmurs back, holding him tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/BelovedMuerto), or [dreamwidth](https://belovedmuerto.dreamwidth.org), or [tumblr](http://www.belovedmuerto.tumblr.com) i guess.


End file.
